The Experiment
by terrified
Summary: A (Valentine's Day) one-shot. A new case presents itself and Sherlock looks set to tackle it solo. Molly's sudden appearance at his flat says otherwise.


**A/N:** I wrote this based on a Valentine's Day head canon/prompt I saw on tumblr. Gingerwatson's head canon is as follows: _Sherlock being sad on valentines while John and Mary are off having dinner somewhere, but then Molly turns up at 221B with wine and lab gear and they spend the day doing experiments together and stopping each other from being upset. ___I loved it so much I just _had_ to write it. To those who celebrate it, Happy Valentine's. x

* * *

**The Experiment**

"How many times do the two of you need to have _dinner_?" Sherlock asked incredulously.  
"Sherlock, I love my wife and I can take her out to dinner as many _bloody_ times as I want." John answered sharply, concentrating on tying his tie and ignoring his brooding, crime-solving friend.  
"Hmmph. _Dinner_." Sherlock huffed under his breath. "You eat too much anyway…"  
"And what are you doing in my house, Sherlock? Still?" John asked, turning around at last.  
"Some dead bodies have appeared in the nearby lake, thought you might want to take a look."  
"Maybe. But not on Valentine's Day, Sherlock." John said with a laugh, "Not when I'd rather take my wife out to dinner."

Sherlock flipped the newspapers absentmindedly, upset that his quest to the lake was most likely going to be a solo project. From the corner of his eyes he could see John was singular in his task for the evening. Dinner with his wife. On Valentine's. Sighing, he folded the newspapers back and left the flat, muttering a hasty, _Enjoy dinner_, much to John's amusement.

—

In the cab on the way back to his flat, Sherlock scanned through the pictures of the bodies Lestrade had sent him. The bodies were all gruesome and grey, fished out from the lake by Scotland Yard. They were in tact, all three of them, which was always good for easy identification. He contemplated heading straight for the lake, perhaps Lestrade would still be there. But he soon received a text from Lestrade that said, _Processed paperwork back at headquarters. Bodies are okay for you to examine._ So he was no longer at the lake. He contemplated heading to Bart's because the bodies would most likely be sent there for him to examine, but Molly was most likely on another of her 'dates'. Why was she always going out with people anyway? Surely she had more important things to do.

_221B it is then,_ thought Sherlock. He could always take a look at the bodies tomorrow. Or at midnight tonight if he was really bored.

—

Sherlock was busy running through information about the case on the lake sent to him on his phone. Information from his homeless network and some bits and bobs from Lestrade. When he arrived at the flat, his eyes were glued to his phone as he made his way up the stairs and pushed open his door, not realising it was slightly ajar.

"Hello Sherlock," came a familiar voice.

His head snapped up from looking at his phone and was surprised to find Molly settled at his study table, polishing her little collection of scalpels. Her hair was swept up in a neat, high ponytail and she was wearing her trusty lab coat.

"Just the man I wanted," she said, looking up from her scalpels with a smile.  
"Molly? What are you doing here?" he asked, displeased that Molly had surprised him but intrigued that she had succeeded.  
"Well, I had a few things of interest to you that ended up in my possession." she said with a smile.  
"I don't understand…"  
"Come on then," she said, handing him a pair of surgical gloves, "No standing around looking surprised when we've got work to do."

Sherlock removed his coat and put on his house robe that he used for experiments and followed Molly into the kitchen. To his surprise, all his microscopes and petri-dishes were laid out, including a range of chemicals that Molly had brought over from Bart's. He recognised the containers they came in and they weren't the ones he had nicked.

"Right, have I got everything we need…" Molly said thoughtfully as her eyes scanned the table.  
"Everything we need for what?" he asked.  
"Isn't it obvious? We're doing an experiment. Or experiments, really." she said cheerfully.  
"What's going on Molly…"  
"Ah, I forgot. The main event." she said with a cheeky smile, "Don't tell Mrs Hudson…"

Molly walked over to the large vegetable compartment at the bottom of the refrigerator and pulled out a large body bag that looked like it held lots of large objects rather than a body. Sherlock raised one eyebrow when she placed the large body bag of…._things_ on the table.

"What are we doing, Molly?" Sherlock asked again. Normally, he would have deduced everything in a flash but having been caught off-guard with the unexpected (and unexpectedly pleasant) presence of Molly in his flat, Sherlock was not thinking straight.  
"When the bodies came in I took a quick look and I figured I'd save you the time of looking over the parts that didn't matter." she said, as she unzipped the bag. "Could you lay out he metal trays please, Sherlock?"

Without any hesitation, he reached for a stack of metal trays she had brought and laid them out before her. Molly reached into the body bag and one by one, took out three severed pairs of feet and three severed pairs of hands. She laid the hands on one tray, and the feet in the other.

"The bodies were fine, just bloated with sewage water from having travelled through the large drains, eventually finishing up in to the lake. But I noticed the strange marks along the wrists and the ankles. And not only that, the _toe_ nails had a strange kind of sulphur-based chemical inside of them. I did a quick swab and tested for the sulphur, in case you were wondering."

Molly zipped the bag up and put it aside.

"Are these from the bodies at the lake that Lestrade had found today?" Sherlock asked.  
"Of course," she answered, "Oh yes, and one more thing."

Opening the main fridge compartment this time, Molly reached for three little glass jars, each with a label and each with a pair of eyeballs floating inside.

"I almost forgot these," she said with a sheepish smile.  
"Their eyeballs?" he said, taking the jars from her and placing them on the table.  
"Yes, I noticed that all three victims had cataracts in their eyes. Could've been a coincidence but you know, nothing is ever a coincidence is it?" she said, smiling endearingly at the jars of eyeballs before her.  
"No, nothing is ever coincidence." Sherlock remarked thoughtfully, a soft smile slowly appearing on his lips.  
"So, it's your call now. What do we start with?" she asked, turning to face him.

Sherlock looked at the pair of bright, brown eyes that stared back at him. Her smile was evident on her face and she was clearly excited to begin experiments. But Sherlock was not sure. And so cleared his throat and asked.

"Molly….John's at dinner tonight…" he began.  
"Yes. And?" she responded, a puzzled frown etched on her face.  
"So…so why aren't you…at dinner?" he asked carefully.  
"With John?" Molly asked with a chuckle, rearranging her scalpels  
"No, no! I mean, if he's out with his wife…"  
"Why am I not out with _my_ wife? Is that your question?" Molly said cheekily, finally settling on a scalpel.

Sherlock was at a loss for words. Her brazen cheerfulness startled him and he could not react. Molly studied his quizzical expression and laughed quietly. She put her selected scalpel down and tip-toed to kiss him on the cheek.

"Why have dinner when three perfectly intriguing bodies turn up?" she said softly.

Sherlock felt a warm glow at the spot where she had kissed him and he could not resist a smile. He bent to return her kiss, kissing her affectionately on her forehead.

"Why indeed…" he answered, his eyes brightening.  
"Now," Molly began, "The cloudy eyeballs first or the curious sulphuric toenail jam?"  
"I suggest the toes. Unidentified substances always tickle my fancy." he said.  
"Excellent choice" she said, getting the necessary items, "Now, if we work fast and sort this murder out, I've got some wine breathing by your bookshelf."  
"You've brought wine too, how romantic." Sherlock remarked with a knowing smirk.  
"And a happy Valentine's to you too, Sherlock," Molly replied as she carefully pried a toenail off a blueish grey foot.

—

_9:30 AM to S. Holmes_  
_So, did you go to the lake? What did you find?_ - JW

11:47 AM _to S. Holmes_  
_Sherlock? You never not reply. Is everything okay? - _JW

When John barged into the flat at about lunchtime, he saw the emptied bottle of wine and the kitchen table scattered with test-tubes and strange piles of ash and burnt things. He ran to the fridge and peered suspiciously in it and saw the body bag. After cursing under his breath, he slammed the fridge shut and raced to Sherlock's room. Sherlock had obviously had a tantrum of some sort and left his dump of a flat looking like, well, more of a dump. It seemed Sherlock had consumed alcohol too, which made things far worse.

"Sherlock!" yelled John as he headed for the detective's bedroom. The room door was open and John walked right in.

"Oh my God…" John whispered, reaching for his phone to take a picture but for the sake of Molly, decided against it. Instead, he took his phone out to text his wife.

_1:38 PM to The Missus_  
_You'll never guess what I've just seen at 221B._ - JW

As he continued to text his wife, John left the flat quietly, shutting the door to make sure Mrs Hudson did not barge in just as he had.

When Sherlock heard John's tentative, exiting footsteps and the sound of his flat door clicking shut, he smirked in his bed and pulled Molly closer to him.

"I knew he'd come and check on me." he whispered to her as he gently kissed her down the side of her neck whilst she stretched beneath the sheets. How he had never experienced the softness of Molly's skin baffled the detective.  
"Well, then you should have let me close the door." Molly answered, chuckling softly.  
"Your hands were busy." he said, letting his finger trail across her bare shoulder down to her hip.  
"Then _you_ should have closed it." she answered, moving to kiss him on the tip of his nose.  
"My hands were busy too." His hands continued to wander.  
"Well, one of us should have shut it." Molly answered, relishing his hands on her skin.  
"I told you, we were _busy_." He said with a smirk.  
"What with?" she asked, pressing herself closer to him and kissing him squarely on the lips this time.  
"Oh, experiments…" he said, between kisses.  
"Better than dinner, wouldn't you say?" teased Molly.  
"Superior in every sense." he answered, drawing her towards him.

Sherlock took in the sweet scent of her hair and the cool, softness of her skin and felt every fibre of his being relax. When he thought back on how the whole evening had begun, he felt a deep sense of _settledness_, that somehow it was still Molly who certainly knew him best.

"I can't wait for next year," he whispered.  
"You won't have to." she answered, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him.

**End**


End file.
